


that's a cheap vacation

by gayshrug



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29209872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayshrug/pseuds/gayshrug
Summary: "When Carlos arrived at his apartment, bags of groceries for dinner in tow, he began to feel a bit loopy. From exhaustion, he assumed, painfully aware of how much overtime he’d accumulated.His home was quiet except for the noise he himself was making, bumping into walls as he attempted to take off his shoes without letting the paper bags slip out of his grasp. Flawless coordination of his limbs couldn’t be expected of him after a ten-hour-shift, so he only blushed a reasonable amount as he finally placed his groceries on the countertop."Or: Carlos's colleagues are assholes and TK puts his knowledge to good use.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 9
Kudos: 185





	that's a cheap vacation

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! just a little idea that didn't leave my head until i started writing it down! (and no, there's no embarrassing, phonetically written dialogue, don't worry.) comments and kudos would be greatly appreciated, as always.
> 
> please see the notes at the end of the chapter if you need more information on the specific scenario described here, i don't wanna spoil it right away. :-)

“Reyes, move your ass!”

Carlos was startled out of his thoughts, eye twitching at being interrupted. He slowly turned around in his desk chair to face the office space of the APD, seeking out who was keeping him from getting this report done. It didn’t take long for him to notice the group of his colleagues gathered near the entrance to the evidence room, huddled around something on the desk.

Usually, he wouldn’t let himself get sidetracked – one of the most valuable parts of his duty was the paperwork. Deemed unnecessary by many, yes, but Carlos wouldn’t let himself step into that trap. He took pride in being particularly invested in his reports, trying to keep everything as detailed and unbiased as possible.

The same couldn’t be said for many of his peers at the department and he tried to compensate for that, as best he could.

As he regarded the scene in front of him, still irritated, someone stepped up to him. “Come on, Reyes, treat yourself for once. We’re all having some.” Waiting expectantly, Officer Kinney didn’t leave his side until Carlos had gotten up and stepped over to the others, apprehensive.

“There he is! We know you’re pretty strict when it comes to your nutrition or whatever but even _you_ need a little sugar from time to time.” Carlos noticed the brownies stuffed into everyone’s hands, then, some of their mouths already sticky with it. Charming. Counting to five in his head, Carlos managed to ignore his urge to tell them that eating brownies instead of donuts didn’t suddenly absolve them of playing into every conceivable cop stereotype.

He’d politely decline and get back to work any other day – he wasn’t here to have fun or be buddy-buddy, he had an actual private life for that – but it _was_ nearing the end of his shift and he could feel the onset of low blood sugar creeping up, making him a bit unsteady on his feet.

“Alright, I suppose. But don’t think I’m making this a habit.” He leaned over and took a slice, then another one for the road. The dough felt dense and oddly comforting between his fingers, a sign that he was yearning for physical contact. The week had been rough, without a lot of time to spare to care about his own needs, and he needed to remedy that. Sweets weren’t a viable substitute in the long run.

As he gently ripped the first brownie apart and popped the pieces into his mouth, taste oddly stale, his colleagues looked at him expectantly, pausing their own chewing. Carlos wouldn’t mind this level of attention coming from the right people but… most of the APD weren’t that, so.

“Uh, thanks. And happy end of shift to everyone who’s off now.”, Carlos said to fill the awkward silence, fighting against his eyebrows doing the judgmental thing they did best. He wouldn’t let himself be guilt-tripped into complimenting these brownies or admitting that he rarely ever partook in group activities.

He could still feel eyes aimed at his back as he turned around to leave, hearing a few muffled whispers and giggles as he went over to his desk to sort everything into neat piles. _Done, needs clearance, not started yet._ He was going to have to put in a few extra hours next week, unhappy with his lack of progress on last month’s bank robbery case.

But getting home to his boy was his priority right now, and he’d let neither casework nor overstepping colleagues get in the way.

Still wondering about the clinging aftertaste at the back of his throat, he locked away his files, packed up his personal items and got going, knocking on the desks around his own as a goodbye.

Carlos decided to forgo changing at the precinct, instead pulling one of TK’s oversized and perversely soft hoodies over his head. It smelled like home and comfort and _god_ , he really needed that. Clocking out had never felt so urgent.

Stepping outside of the station, his eyes thanking him for escaping the harsh lighting, he popped the remaining brownie into his mouth with one bite, wanting to get it over with.

He needed the sugar, he knew, but that didn’t mean he was going to pretend to like the package it came in. Whoever had made these should have to personally apologize to Carlos as well as his mother, a baking team so stellar they would have everyone bow to their own brownie-iteration. He should really call her to catch up, Carlos thought as he threw his bag into the back of his Chevy, closing the door with a satisfying _clunk_.

Half an hour and he’d be at home, showered, warm, maybe with TK massaging his shoulders.

❦

When Carlos arrived at his apartment, bags of groceries for dinner in tow, he began to feel a bit loopy. From exhaustion, he assumed, painfully aware of how much overtime he’d accumulated.

His home was quiet except for the noise he himself was making, bumping into walls as he attempted to take off his shoes without letting the paper bags slip out of his grasp. Flawless coordination of his limbs couldn’t be expected of him after a ten-hour-shift, so he only blushed a reasonable amount as he finally placed his groceries on the countertop.

Without bothering to store anything in the fridge, he sent TK a short **home, join me? <3** text and made his way upstairs to shower. It felt like an eternity had passed before he reached his bathroom, his socks dragging on the tiles. Undressing was a slow process, his hands fumbling with the buttons and his skin feeling clammy.

Stepping underneath the warm spray was ecstasy, the rivulets of water feeling like gentle caresses as they dripped down his skin. Carlos just stood there, head dropped and eyes closed, for a few long moments until he remembered that he’d get to see TK soon.

Soaping himself up was a complicated endeavor, his hands feeling a bit detached, like they weren’t his own. Somewhere within his brain, his own voice said _something’s not right,_ but he ignored it, steadfast, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Getting to see and touch his boyfriend was his priority right now, anything else could be dealt with at a later time.

He dried himself off lazily, not bothering to give his hair more than two rubs with the towel, and pulled clean sweats and a soft shirt out of his cupboard. He couldn’t be bothered to pull on socks, so he didn’t, instead opting to slowly leave his bathroom on bare feet.

Carlos couldn’t hear any movement within the apartment, so he assumed TK hadn’t arrived yet – carefully making his way down the stairs with a firm grasp on the railing. _You’re unsteady._

Dropping onto his sofa felt like a blessing, the soft leather pulling him in. He let his head drop back, eyes half-lidded. Sleep sounded perfect right about now but he wouldn’t, couldn’t do that. Seeing TK was supposed to be his personal treat and he didn’t want to miss the moment when he’d step inside, using his own copy of Carlos’s key.

As the minutes stretched on, however, Carlos continued to feel like he was coming down with something – a common cold, the flu, an anxiety attack, _something_. He hadn’t felt like this in forever, an unfamiliar weight settling in his chest, his thoughts running away from him.

He didn’t even notice his desperate grip on the leather until he felt a twinge in his wrist, saw how white his knuckles were. He didn’t want to let go, though, panicking at the thought of moving even an inch.

When he heard the familiar _click_ of a key turning, his eyes flitted towards the door, vision hazy. Oh. Finally.

“Hey, baby.”, TK said with a smile as he entered, taking his shoes off right away. Normally, Carlos would jump up and crash into him, pulling him close and breathing him in, but he just. Couldn’t.

His eyebrows drawn, TK stepped closer and closer until he was standing right in front of Carlos, gently pushing his wet hair from his forehead. “You okay?” Carlos could hear the concern in his voice, could feel the soft scrape of his nails against his scalp, but his eyes had a hard time focusing.

“Hmm.”, he muttered, not feeling like opening his mouth was a good idea right now. His throat felt rough, tongue dry and tacky. Hands still gripping the sofa tightly.

“Carlos, look at me. Are you feeling sick?” TK’s hands were on his face now, feeling his temperature, stroking his temples. “No fever.” A soft kiss to Carlos’s forehead. He wanted to smile but his body was slow to respond, feeling –

Oh. Oh fuck. Oh _no_.

TK was growing noticeably worried, keeping Carlos’s head supported with his hands while murmuring sweet nothings, reassuring him that everything was gonna be okay. With a startled twitch, Carlos realized that TK was pulling his eyelids open, turning his face towards the lamp mounted on the living room wall behind them. The motion made him clamp his mouth shut, afraid.

What TK saw had to be an answer to his worries because Carlos, holding still for dear life, could see mirth twisting TK’s mouth into a little smirk. “Did you get stoned, baby?” His pupils had to be doing the rebound dilation thing he always checked for in reckless drivers, a pretty unambiguous sign for marijuana usage.

Carlos attempted to shake his head no, he hadn’t done it _on purpose_ , but he felt too sick to give more than a little twitch of the head and a pitiful groan.

TK settled in next to him for a short moment, giving his hand a comforting squeeze when he saw how tense it was. “You’ve gotta tell me all about how this happened later, but I’ve got a feeling you’re not on cloud nine right now.” With that, he kissed Carlos’s temple and got up once more, presumably walking towards the kitchen.

Carlos’s thoughts were hazy, skipping between the joy of finally having TK in his space again, his anger at the bullshit his colleagues had pulled today, and the desperate, desperate need to not throw up. He was afraid to swallow by now, the spit thick at the back of his throat.

He hadn’t consumed edibles since his teens, unfamiliar with how differently they made him feel compared to the occasional joint he’d shared with Michelle after a long week. _Shouldn’t have taken two, you idiot. You knew they tasted off._

His lack of surprise at the fact that his colleagues probably misused marijuana stored in their _evidence_ room spoke volumes; how they’d even amassed enough to bake an entire tray with the little amount he thought they’d confiscated this month, he didn’t know. They shouldn’t even be dealing with possession below the four-ounce mark anymore and he – he needed a hug right now, more than anything. Embarrassing as it might seem, Carlos wasn’t big on unplanned losses of control.

Just as another wave of nausea hit him, TK walked back into his field of vision, hands full. Carlos could see a foggy-looking glass of water, the Belgian waffles he’d bought earlier, as well as a few bags of junk food. If he could get his eyes to move any way he wanted them to right now, he’d make them heart shaped.

“I need you to sit up straight. Can you try for me?”, TK whispered, placing the items he’d brought over on the table and kneeling down in front of Carlos, hands on his thighs. The gentle strokes he made, softly rubbing circulation back into his legs, felt like heaven. TK’s eyes were kind, always so kind when they looked at him, so loving. Carlos could do this. For him.

Forcing himself to unclench his upper body, he straightened up, his head no longer supported by the back of the sofa. He still felt disoriented, uncertain about how much longer he could hold himself up, but TK was efficient as ever – jumping to his feet and getting the glass. He slowly brought it to Carlos’s lips, conscious of the fact that his arms were pretty much useless at the moment.

TK smiled as Carlos opened up and accepted the drink, and visibly swallowed a chuckle when he noted the confusion on his boyfriend’s face – Carlos had expected water, not _this_. “I know Michelle coddles you with how little MJ she puts in your joints but, uh, I’ve gone overboard a few times in my past and sugar water always helped. Swallow, baby.” Carlos couldn’t object to that.

He knew TK didn’t mean it in a suggestive way, but his mind was all over the place – feeling pampered and weirdly turned on and slowly coming back to himself as he drained the glass. TK was supporting his head with one hand, fingers dancing across the nape of his neck, soothing.

Once he’d forced it all down, crystals of undissolved sugar coating the corners of his mouth, TK leaned in and kissed him. Not hard enough the jostle him in any way, but simply pressing their mouths together for the first time today. Making a happy noise as he licked the sugar from his lips. “Good. You did good.” TK’s voice was lulling him, making his mind detach from the fear of messing up.

It took him a second – minute, hour? – to realize that TK was gently moving him sideways, putting a pillow underneath his head and pulling his legs up. Now sprawled across the sofa, Carlos squinted at TK as if betrayed. “Wha-“, he started but was quickly shushed, TK sitting down on the floor next to him and leaning his head against Carlos’s thigh. “Rest your eyes for a bit. Don’t wanna overdo it right now. Just squeeze when you start feeling hungry.” With that, TK reached up and held Carlos’s hand in his own, interlinking their fingers and closing his eyes, too.

“Love you.”, Carlos mumbled, cottonmouth not as pervasive as it’d been earlier. “I know.”, TK replied, and pressed a lingering kiss to his knuckles. 

Feeling safe and like he wouldn’t see the world tilt on its axis for the first time in an hour, Carlos finally closed his eyes and let the sensations take over.

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers: the experience described in this fic is basically carlos's colleagues making pot brownies without telling him. he eats two of them and starts noticing the effects once he gets home after his shift. tk takes care of him. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading! let me know if you liked it and/or have any questions/comments/concerns. if i've forgotten to tag something, please let me know. the title is from "nights" by frank ocean. 
> 
> you can find me @gayshrug on tumblr as well as twitter. don't be a stranger!


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